First off,
best wishes to my Aunt Paula who is currently in the hospital with a
burst appendix. Yikes. Here's hoping that clears up, like,
yesterday.
--
Before we get started, it should be noted that Syd Barrett has shuffled off this mortal coil. For the few of you who don't know who that is, he essentially formed Pink Floyd (although he, uh, "left" before they became massive) and wrote some of the most definitive psychedelic music in history. He's one of those guys whose influence is so pervasive that millions of people can recognize the sound he pioneered without actually knowing who he was. If you've ever heard a very, very British song that reminded you of Alice In Wonderland backed with electric guitars, that's Syd's doing, even if it wasn't actually his band who performed the song in question.
He was, unfortunately (and unfairly) also the definitive "acid casualty" (I say unfairly since those who knew him have stated that he may well have lost his mind without the aid of psychedelics.) "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" was written about him.
Despite this, his music was often so upliftingly silly that it bordered on children's music.
He was also, from what I've been told by various female music geeks, not unattractive.
Vegetable Man, where are you?
OK, continuing with the musical theme...
If one should care to trace the roots of my Japanophelia, it can most likely be attributable to two things: Godzilla and this album:
For reasons that can only be described as insufficient, I have waited until now to make my pilgrimage to the rock geek Mecca known as Budokan.
That last pic is, by the way, my rather poor attempt to photograph the fact that I was indeed listening to the album in question while this was happening. You can see it if you squint.
The entrance into which what sound like millions of squealing Japanese teenage girls must have gone.
Before I drop the music geek moment I'd like to do something a bit out of character and say that the new Cheap Trick is one of the best albums they've ever done. I know that sounds like wishful thinking, but I had no real hopes for it (the last one didn't do much for me.) This one is, honestly, better than "In Color" and parts of "Dream Police."
The cover's cool, too.
OK, let's get back to the reason we're all here. Grapefluit.
Official party headquarters of the slightly amusing. Be still my beating heart.
OK, guess what this is.
Well, ever since Mad Cow happened, Japan has been very touchy about beef. If you eat beef, some restaurants like to let you know the registration number of the cow in question, which is the top number there on the board.
So, basically, you know the name of dinner.
"Hi, I'm 1198360778, and I'd like to say eat me."
It's been quite the busy week, even without the music geek moments.
I have no idea who this is. But the picture's on my memory card.
Here's a picture of a cat.
Soon to be an ex cat.
Not the busiest of streets, that.
There was yet another night of drunken debauchery after a dance performance.
I want the woman on the right's shirt.
"Rock, Stock, and Barrels." One of the few times that a spelling mistake improves the content of the statement in question.
And should you feel adventurous, you can eat this stuff:
That's fried sweet bean paste with gold.
No, really. That glittery stuff is gold leaf.
Speaking of stuff I should have done a year ago, I also finally saw a Kabuki play. Two, actually.
This was at the famous Kabuki-za in Tokyo. Like the dances, unfortunately, no pictures are permitted of the performance itself, but at least I got the building this time. Which is impressive in and of itself.
In keeping with Kabuki tradition, all the performers are male, even the female characters. The plays, sets and costumes are so stylized that it stops being strange after a few minutes.
Four hours that went by like nothing. I'm doing this again soon.
OK, that's it for this time. I leave you with another Surugi rendering of my likeness. Looks like I still have some weight to lose.
As always, mail me here.
--
Before we get started, it should be noted that Syd Barrett has shuffled off this mortal coil. For the few of you who don't know who that is, he essentially formed Pink Floyd (although he, uh, "left" before they became massive) and wrote some of the most definitive psychedelic music in history. He's one of those guys whose influence is so pervasive that millions of people can recognize the sound he pioneered without actually knowing who he was. If you've ever heard a very, very British song that reminded you of Alice In Wonderland backed with electric guitars, that's Syd's doing, even if it wasn't actually his band who performed the song in question.
He was, unfortunately (and unfairly) also the definitive "acid casualty" (I say unfairly since those who knew him have stated that he may well have lost his mind without the aid of psychedelics.) "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" was written about him.
Despite this, his music was often so upliftingly silly that it bordered on children's music.
He was also, from what I've been told by various female music geeks, not unattractive.
Vegetable Man, where are you?
OK, continuing with the musical theme...
If one should care to trace the roots of my Japanophelia, it can most likely be attributable to two things: Godzilla and this album:
For reasons that can only be described as insufficient, I have waited until now to make my pilgrimage to the rock geek Mecca known as Budokan.
That last pic is, by the way, my rather poor attempt to photograph the fact that I was indeed listening to the album in question while this was happening. You can see it if you squint.
The entrance into which what sound like millions of squealing Japanese teenage girls must have gone.
Before I drop the music geek moment I'd like to do something a bit out of character and say that the new Cheap Trick is one of the best albums they've ever done. I know that sounds like wishful thinking, but I had no real hopes for it (the last one didn't do much for me.) This one is, honestly, better than "In Color" and parts of "Dream Police."
The cover's cool, too.
OK, let's get back to the reason we're all here. Grapefluit.
Official party headquarters of the slightly amusing. Be still my beating heart.
OK, guess what this is.
Well, ever since Mad Cow happened, Japan has been very touchy about beef. If you eat beef, some restaurants like to let you know the registration number of the cow in question, which is the top number there on the board.
So, basically, you know the name of dinner.
"Hi, I'm 1198360778, and I'd like to say eat me."
It's been quite the busy week, even without the music geek moments.
I have no idea who this is. But the picture's on my memory card.
Here's a picture of a cat.
Soon to be an ex cat.
Not the busiest of streets, that.
There was yet another night of drunken debauchery after a dance performance.
I want the woman on the right's shirt.
"Rock, Stock, and Barrels." One of the few times that a spelling mistake improves the content of the statement in question.
And should you feel adventurous, you can eat this stuff:
That's fried sweet bean paste with gold.
No, really. That glittery stuff is gold leaf.
Speaking of stuff I should have done a year ago, I also finally saw a Kabuki play. Two, actually.
This was at the famous Kabuki-za in Tokyo. Like the dances, unfortunately, no pictures are permitted of the performance itself, but at least I got the building this time. Which is impressive in and of itself.
In keeping with Kabuki tradition, all the performers are male, even the female characters. The plays, sets and costumes are so stylized that it stops being strange after a few minutes.
Four hours that went by like nothing. I'm doing this again soon.
OK, that's it for this time. I leave you with another Surugi rendering of my likeness. Looks like I still have some weight to lose.
As always, mail me here.